“Yeah, littermates. They’re three years old.”
“Have you had them since they were puppies?”
Gray waited for his brother’s answer, remembering the afternoon when they’d gone together to the breeder’s. Gray had only put a deposit on the male, but Vulcan had been so attached to his little sister that Bax wouldn’t let them leave without her.
Gray wouldn’t have left either. Even if he’d been alone. Cecilia’s death six months before was still like an open wound for them both. If there had been a third puppy left to take, Gray would now have a pack.
“Yes… well, my brother’s had them since they were eight weeks. They’re his.”
“Oh… do you look after them often?” Confusion came through her voice. “I assumed from our conversation you had dogs.”
“Yeah… um… about that,” Bax stammered, and Gray found himself grinning as his brother struggled. What had Bax told the girl? Not much, by the sound of it. He leaned closer against his bedroom door and strained to hear. “I’mnot looking for an assistant.”
“You’re not?” Shock and what Gray thought was a hint of wariness pinched the girl’s voice.
“No, my—”
“My best friend knows exactly where I—” she blurted. “I mean, in case this is… something it shouldn’t be.” Now there was more than just a hint of wariness. She sounded scared. In the next instant, he picked up the low rumble of Vulcan’s growl, and Gray’s hand reached for the doorknob.
“What? No… Vulcan, hush!” Bax scolded. The dog whined in response.
Gray froze, the doorknob in his grip. What his brother didn’t realize — because he was too innocent to think criminal thoughts — was that this girl feared for her safety and was probably ready to fight him off if need be. This was something Vulcan knew. And because Gray thought criminal thoughts for a living, he knew it too. And he recognized that Baxter’s cluelessness only made matters worse.
“I mean, if you’re… like a Craigslist killer or something, I’ll fight you just like Mickey Shunick, and you’ll go down for my murder.”
“What?!”
It would have been funny if it weren’t happening in his kitchen. After all, he might not have to send the poor girl away if his brother scared her off. But he didn’t like the idea of a woman in his home being afraid, so he was just turning the knob to put them out of their misery when Baxter course-corrected.
“Oh, no. No, no, no. Meredith, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. No,” he said again. “These are my brother’s dogs, and this is my brother’s house, and he’s the one in need of an assistant.”
Finally.Gray held his ground and listened to see what the girl would make of Baxter’s explanation. He figured she’d be out the door in about two seconds. Then he’d send his brother on his way, take the dogs for a walk, and wait for the Topiramate to wear off.
“So… why am I talking toyou?” she asked, and if Gray was ready to laugh before, he felt the onset of hysterics now.
“My brother’s unwell.”
Laughter dried up in his throat.What the hell?
The term made him sound like a lunatic.
“His condition doesn’t allow him to drive, so he needs someone to run errands for him.”
A soft gasp preceded her “Oh!”
Gray narrowed his eyes at the door and pictured punching his brother in the head.
“He’s not feeling up to meeting you today,” Bax went on smoothly. “But he needs someone to help him with errands, and he can work around your school schedule.”
“That…that would be perfect.” All traces of fear left her voice. She now sounded dangerously eager to take the job.
“I could give you a key so you could come and go as you needed, and he or I could text or call you with lists and stuff like that.”
“What about driving him places? Does he need transportation? Is he in a wheelchair?”
Gray turned the knob. Ready to storm across the house and prove that he was not, in fact, a bed-ridden lunatic, he pulled open the door and froze.
At the end of the hall just in his kitchen, standing with her face angled almost directly toward him, was the loveliest girl Gray had ever seen. The sight of her sent a shock through his body. His belly, the base of his spine, and the front of his thighs all tingled.